


Even in Death

by Aulynduel, ScaryFarren



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Attraction, Banter, Camaraderie, Cute, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elves, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, High Elves (Warcraft), M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other, Quel'Thalas (Warcraft), Quel'dorei (High Elves), Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, The Feast of Winter Veil, Trolls (Warcraft) - Freeform, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aulynduel/pseuds/Aulynduel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryFarren/pseuds/ScaryFarren
Summary: Their fates unknown, Sylvanas Windrunner and Nathanos Marris live and fight for Silvermoon City and the Alliance. Through battle, banter, and trust, the two forge an unyielding bond that may just last... even in death.
Relationships: Kael'thas Sunstrider/Sylvanas Windrunner, Nathanos Blightcaller/Sylvanas Windrunner, Nathanos Marris/Sylvanas Windrunner, Rommath/Kael'thas Sunstrider, Sylvanas Windrunner & Lor'themar Theron, Sylvanas Windrunner/Original Character(s), Sylvanas Windrunner/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Even in Death

The sparkling, magical spirals of Silvermoon City were never more alight and true to its name than around the time that the majority of Azeroth saw snow fall and holiday wonders. Garlands of silvery, twinkling foliage curled around almost every possible surface, and one could find more decorations going up by the minute.

Nathanos Marris kept his gaze forward as he walked through the city, letting a smirk play along his lips at the displays. 

An elven merchant glared at him as he walked past and he gave her a cheery, sarcastic smile and wave, letting the expression drop into one of apathetic annoyance just soon enough for the elf to see the shift before he walked by.

This happened at least three more times before he reached his destination. He glanced around, then grinned as he knocked at a gilded door, hefting his pack over one shoulder and plopping a Winter Veil hat onto his head. 

“Ranger-General? Nathanos Marris reporting for duty.” His tone was dry and tinged with humor.

Sylvanas had been leaning over the large marble table in the center of the room, carefully guiding long, golden pins into an impressively drawn map. The energy with which her fingers were levitating the pins seemed tired and imprecise at the moment, which of course only served to frustrate her.

She didn’t quite stir from her position as she lifted her head to regard Nathanos, palms planted flat on the surface. 

“It’s so very kind of you to drop in, Greatfather Winter.”

She quirked an eyebrow and hummed, realizing the interruption was welcome, blue eyes flitting back to the map. 

“Word on the street is that Nathanos missed his Thalassian lesson this morning, and his  _ instructor _ ,” she paused for emphasis as her eyes scanned the map, lighthearted, “who was none too pleased at the prospect of teaching him to  _ begin with _ , was none too pleased yet again.”

She rapped on the table a few times with her short nails, sucking her teeth and sighing as she began to carefully float pins again. “First that, now this. I fear something truly terrible must have happened to him. So thankful that he has friends like you to cover for him, Greatfather.”

Ever-present smirk widening, he put on his best old man voice. “Why of course! It’s only my duty after all - to aid all the good boys and girls, get them out of impossibly boring tasks!”

He plopped the bag down next to a chair and slung himself into it, maintaining the voice, lifting his nose up in the air. “Besides, Nathanos Marris is on his way to knowing Thalassian better than some elves, I dare say.”

Sylvanas mouthed  _ impossibly boring _ to herself and rolled her eyes. She turned to face him, leaning back on the table and folding her arms delicately with a smile. “Probably only the bad words, if we’re being frank with each other, Greatfather.”

Nathanos snorted. “The good words you mean, my dear, the ones that matter!” He amped up the voice and sat up in the chair, reaching for the bag. “Are you ready for your Winter Veil gift? Were you a good girl this year?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully.

Sylvanas laughed outright, a musical sound. She glanced around the room for a moment warily, ears back, before leaning forward with her hands clasped behind her. “It depends on who you ask. Aren’t you supposed to know these things though? Or am I confusing your mythos for another?”

He grinned, shifting toward her. “I think that’s answer enough,  _ lassy _ .” He broke character as he met her eyes, unable to hold in his laughter any longer. He leaned back in the chair and handed her a small box, eyes still twinkling with amusement.

Humming in pleasant surprise, Sylvanas gingerly took the box from him and brushed the edge of the map up behind her to sit on the table.    
  
Crossing her legs, she lofted the box in one hand and narrowed her eyes at Nathanos with a dazzling smile. “So. What’s your angle? Pop-up snakes? Is the box enchanted to stink or yell? I’ve seen it all, you know.”

He tilted his head, looking momentarily confused before he laughed. “Really? Well now I do feel like I missed an opportunity.” He gestured for her to open it and sat back, crossing his legs, giving away nothing else with his expression. 

Sylvanas closed one eye with a playfully sour look as if she were carefully examining his face, before relenting and looking down to slide the box open.

Nestled in simple cloth was a leaf cloak pin made of pale, vibrant wood polished to a bright sheen. It looked masterfully carved, and had a light green finish that gave it just the slightest tint so that it would compliment her armor. 

Sylvanas blinked in genuine surprise and her expression softened when she saw the pin, a smile spreading across her face. “This is… beautiful!” 

Her fingers traced it for the smallest of moments, and she decided to hop down from the table and race across the room to find her cloak. She draped it across her shoulders and fastened the pin, pressing her palm into the wall and sliding out an ornate full-length mirror. 

Sylvanas leaned into the mirror, beaming, and tousled her hair just right out of pure vanity before adjusting the pin just so across her chest. She cleared her throat and tossed a look over her shoulder at Nathanos. “You’re  _ very  _ good.”

Nathanos watched her preen with a wide, positively beaming smile. He took a deep breath, as if he wasn’t getting enough of it naturally. He cleared his throat and glanced away, shrugging, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“It wasn’t too hard. The toughest bit was finding the right color varnish. You people and your colors.”

She tore her eyes away from herself long enough to gape at him through the mirror.

“The what?”   
  
Sylvanas was practically on the other side of the room and hovering over him before she was finished asking. She shifted her weight to one hip and pointed a long, slender finger at him as if she was accusing him of something. “You MADE this.”

Nathanos blinked, leaning back in the chair at her approach. “Uh… yes. Yes I did.” He arched a brow, smirking ever slightly. “Did I break some obscure rule you guys have? Thou shalt not handcraft gifts?”

She dropped her finger and laughed easily, shaking her head. “Now, really. No!”

She was so quick to unpin the cloak and admire the gift again, she nearly thwacked Nathanos in the face with the fabric. He jerked backward in reaction to the fabric cracking so close to his nose. He tapped at the appendage with a playfully worried expression, as if to make sure it was still there. 

“Mother would have loved this,” she murmured, gazing down at the pin hard again before snapping from her reverie and gesturing it outwardly in a closed fist. 

“This,” Sylvanas sighed on a breath of contentment, “is incredibly impressive and most thoughtful. You’ve really outdone yourself, Nathanos. Thank you.”

His smirk widened once again into a grin. 

“I’m glad you like it. It suits you well, as I knew it would.” He said that a bit more softly, gently. “A piece of beauty for beauty itself.” He then cleared his throat again. “...or something equally cheesy like that.” He chuckled. 

Sylvanas snickered in response, the way she did when her guard was down. It wasn’t light or airy, just a deep, genuine amusement. “You have clearly been spending  _ far _ too much time with the wrong people to have that so well down pat,” she teased.

She pinned the leaf back through her cloak and hung it up by the door, admiring it rather proudly for a moment with her hands on her hips, before spinning on her heel and disappearing around a corner of the large room. He chuckled at the jab, his gaze following her as she moved from his view.   
  
“You know, I actually have something for you as well,” she called out to Nathanos in a sing-song voice.    
  
Doors could be heard opening and closing, the muted sounds of rummaging slowly intensifying.

Nathanos raised his eyebrows at the searching sounds.   
  
“I certainly hadn’t thought of it—“ she paused to emit an audible huff, followed by what sounded like a sheet cracking as she shook it out, “—as a Winter Veil gift, but I suppose it could do.”

At the cracking sound, his eyes widened. He shook his head sharply and shiftily looked around, mouthing, “What the fuck…” to himself.

"Ahh, that's better," she breathed, and rolled out ahead of her what looked like a garment rack even taller than she was. A faded yet intricately woven sheet of fabric was pulled over its contents, entirely concealing them, save for the rack's wheels visible at the bottom. 

He cocked his head at the sight of it, forcing himself to lower his eyebrows, less they get stuck that way.

She cleared her throat and walked over to the door, peering outside of it before closing it shut tightly with her foot.

"So," Sylvanas started, turning to face him, gesturing vaguely towards the rack and then clasping her hands behind her back. "I didn't have time to... I didn't think I would be giving this to you so soon. And  _ don't _ go touching it yet!" Despite his best efforts, he jumped slightly as she pre-reprimanded him, as he had stood up to go toward it warily.

A dramatic silence filled the room as her attempts at maintaining a serious and professional demeanor slowly gave way. 

"What do you think it is?" she asked from behind her hand, in a way that could best be described as quietly imploding.

Sliding his gaze to her, his incredulity melted away at her excitement. He put a hand to his chin, scratching at his beard. 

“Hmm...well, nothing long enough to touch the ground, but that is a very, very tall clothes rack.” He moved around to survey it from every angle without getting too close, making a show of his analysis. 

Humming again, he held up a finger as if he had figured it out. “Perhaps clown suits? Or robes? Hmm, same thing… Maybe lingerie? I’m not into that myself, though I’m sure there’s some of the other male rangers who are.”

He couldn’t keep the grin from playing around his face as he teased her. 

“Lingerie?” Sylvanas asked from behind her hand flatly, but still couldn’t help smirking to herself as she strode across the room to the rack.   
  
She lifted a corner of the sheet outside his view and peered beneath it for a second, then glanced over at Nathanos. She dropped it and reached out to take both of his hands with surprising strength, guiding him to sit in a chair positioned just facing the rack, which was inline with the mirror.

As she grasped his hands and forcefully moved him, he let out a “Whoa, okay, guess I’m going this way now…” under his breath. He sat in the chair, finally allowing himself to look openly confused.    
  
Sylvanas lowered herself down in front of him with her hands on his kneecaps, not quite kneeling, but squatting on her toes. It was an intimate and comfortable gesture that she often made with her family and her friends, but seldom her rangers. 

He just blinked at her, his expression one of a person who’s forgotten how to do expressions. 

Her eyes were alight with excitement and even though she was practically buzzing with an eager energy, she calmly dropped her voice to a hush.   
  
“So I stayed out at the Retreat last night and I was talking about it with Lor’themar— well, no, no, I was telling him,” Sylvanas corrected herself, an apparently important distinction for her to make, brushing her hair to one side. 

At the mention of Lor’themar, he broke out of the short haze and gave her a pointed look of feigned disinterest. It was ruined with a soft frown. He honestly had no idea what this “gift” might be, and the fact that she had spoken of it with her second was more concerning than anything.   
  
“I was reflecting on the exceedingly uncommon progress that you’ve made in such a wildly short amount of time.” She punctuated this last word with a tilt of her head. “When I say this, I am really hoping to stress to you the true depth of the valley between your concept of time and mine.”

He watched her as she spoke, expression shifting to a pleased smile. Not the cocky smirk of a smile he reserved for the rest of them, but a genuine smile that spoke to how much her praise actually meant to him. 

“I appreciate that, both the difference in time and the acknowledgement of my hard work.” He stared at her. “I have been putting everything I have into training with you for a little over a year now. That does tend to produce results, no matter who you are.”

He wasn’t trying to be humble, just honest. He knew that he was good, especially for a human; he would not be there if he did not believe it. Plenty of the elves doubted his intelligence, as he knew she did not (which he appreciated). However, he did not want her to think him naive. He had grown up with the concept of doing things right the first time, and then improving as you go. In time, this had proven a successful method for multiple facets of his life at the stead.

“You’re absolutely right,” she nodded sharply, squeezing his knees before standing and turning around. “The difference here is that you haven’t wavered. You’ve been consistent.” She pounded a fist into her open palm at the end of each sentence for emphasis, pausing thoughtfully for a moment.    
  
“You’ve managed to surpass expectations in a mere fraction of the time that I’ve seen it take most anybody else. And yet you still put in the work, day in and day out. I know you take this very seriously and I can tell that it means a lot to you, so I truly believe that makes you all the more deserving of this.”   
  
She pulled the sheet down in one fluid motion to reveal a full uniform hanging from the garment rack. Deep familiar greens and rich brown padded leather, much more elaborate than his usual fare. The trim, studs and other adornments were set in gold with black thinly streaked and marbled into it.    
  
Sylvanas hurried behind him in the chair to both get out of the way and catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror, her hands settling atop his shoulders.   
  
She leaned down beside Nathanos’ ear. 

“You’re a natural,” she whispered. “ _ Alar'annalas _ .”

He didn’t think shivers could be warm, but that was passed through him at her voice in his ear, her lips so close. It only proved to exacerbate the shock of what he was seeing. He took a deep, sharp breath involuntarily at the sight of the armor in combination with her words. He didn’t need to be fluent in Thalassian to know what that word meant. He’d heard it enough, said it enough. Or “attempted to” according to some of the other rangers. 

He couldn’t do much for a moment but stare, eyes wide, mouth still open from that deep breath before. His eyebrows worked as if he was trying to understand, but he already did.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t confused. 

He caught her eyes in the mirror, stammering. “Sylvanas, I’m… I’m honored, but…” His mind seemed to be starting to catch up with the revelation. He stood, going toward the armor, reaching out a hand only to let it fall as he turned to look at her. 

“Are you sure? I know I’ve done well, but this…” He surveyed the armor again, letting out a small disbelieving laugh. 

“I’m certain. I know it seems sudden, but...” she trailed off, approaching the armor and ghosting a hand over the chest. “I’ve really given it a lot of thought.” 

He looked to the armor as she spoke. He was sure she had considered this, from every angle, as she did everything. 

Nathanos then gave her a worried smile. “This will cause… problems. Many. Problems. For you. For both of us.” 

Sylvanas returned his worried smile for a brief moment, but nodded deeply and surely, looking away.    
  
She then patted the armor and turned to face Nathanos, folding her arms across her own chest.   
  
“I think,” she started, firmly but gently, “that any problems we could face, I’d be willing to face them together. If you are.” 

After a breath of consideration, she visibly relaxed. If a switch was flipped, Sylvanas turned it on. She squared her shoulders and nearly closed the space between them, a little closer than your average drill range. 

He took in a sharp breath through his nose as she stared at him with the weight of a drawn arrow. He had never met anyone who could do such a thing, and he was not used to it; wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Turning up her nose and looking down it, she locked her eyes onto him with such earnesty and confidence that she knew it would be hard for him not to feel it.    
  
“I am indeed terribly aware of the weight behind what I ask of you. And so I  _ do _ ask of you, Nathanos Marris,” she lowered her voice, maintaining a gentleness in her timbre and never breaking eye contact. “Take the rest of today as a day of rest and reflection. If you have any questions, consider me an open book. But please think on this. Report back to me in your time.”

He stared back, unflinching, and nodded. It was clear she had done more than mulled this over and knew what trouble it may cause. 

Yet still, she offered it to him. 

She trusted him, and so he would trust her.

“My time is now, Ranger-General. What do you plan on doing about any unrest this may cause with the other rangers? Especially if I am to lead in any capacity. I cannot risk their lives, or potential innocents, due to personal vendettas.” 

A smile slowly melted across Sylvanas’ face and she gave him one quick nod, as if to say  _ that’s the spirit _ . She reeled it in though, clasping her hands behind her back and turning to regard the armor while she visibly mulled over his question. 

“I feel your concern deeply. I both see and hear the things you endure on a daily basis,” she admitted, studying the armor, “and I do what I can to squelch anything that crosses my line of sight. But if any Farstrider were so foolish as to endanger themselves or others by not following orders simply because of race, I give you my word: they would not be in my ranks.”

“I know, they can be… a bit much,” Sylvanas rolled her eyes upward, clearly understating things. “But the one thing I’ve assessed to be most true among them?” 

She looked to Nathanos again, and motioned for him to give her his palm. As she took his hand and he felt her warm pulse, he swallowed and nodded. His fingertips pressed slightly, in what he hoped was a gesture of understanding.

She placed his palm flat over her heart, determined to reassure him. Her pulse could be felt steady as ever, and remained so, accentuating her honesty. 

“At their core, my rangers believe in the same vision of tolerance as I do. For all the ways they can be stuck in, they too understand that nobody can flourish under such a guarded existence. Not even us.”

He watched her, expression firm, resolute. He had indeed withstood some interesting experiences over the last year, but rather than accomplish what the elves wished, it only made him more dedicated. And, even he would admit, more annoyingly smug about it. 

“If you trust them, then so do I, my lady.” He bowed his head slightly, eyes never leaving hers. “I will carry the title and responsibility to the best of my ability. That is my word to you.”

Sylvanas reached up and squeezed her other hand around the both of theirs in response. “All I want is your best,” she replied quietly. He nodded, keeping his face passive despite the thudding of his pulse in his ears. She grinned, beaming with pride, and bounced on her heels a little, dropping his hand. He cleared his throat.

“And now I have to plan a ceremony!” Sylvanas turned away, dramatically sweeping an arm out in Nathanos’ direction. “Well now, I mean, it’s a ceremony. There won’t be  _ much  _ to plan. A lot of tradition.”

Nathanos visibly wilted, shoulders slumping and eyes narrowing at her. 

“You’re kidding. A ceremony?” he managed, with a good amount of effort to not roll his eyes.

And with that, she suddenly looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes darted between Nathanos and the uniform. Her lips pressed tightly together in thought and she exhaled through her nose, visibly struggling not to say something.

He noted her look and glanced warily from the armor back to her. 

“What.”

“We need to fit you for ceremonial armor,” Sylvanas spilled all at once from the corner of her mouth, like she’d been holding it in forever. 

Her wide-eyed look of admission quickly transformed into a wide, sheepish smile right at Nathanos. After a beat of awkward silence, she stretched her arms down, lacing her fingers together and batted her eyelashes a few times.

He raised his eyebrows and then let out a soft laugh at her, looking up at the ceiling, then back to her. 

“Do we  _ need  _ to?”

Sylvanas’ mouth fell open, immediately, “Yes, we  _ need  _ to!”

He groaned, then sighed and grumbled, “Fine.”

She pointed a finger at him, eyebrows raised. “Get all your grumbles out now, thank you.”

“Ugh. Believe me, I’ll be grumbling about it plenty in private. I’ll be all stalwart and self-important in front of the rest of them.” He slumped into the chair, still staring at the armor. He let out a deep sigh. 

“Ohhhh,” she moaned in a cutesy voice, rounding the back of the chair and rubbing his shoulders like she was encouraging him for a fight. 

Her hands, designed to remove tension, just sort of made it worse. His muscles went taut and it was only by sheer force of will that he let them relax. They were still tense, but at least they weren’t up around his ears.

“It won’t be so bad. You get to be the pretty, shiny, center of attention for about 20 minutes. I know how much you love that. You’re always coming to me saying, ‘Ranger-General, how can I stand out more?’” she teased.

“Yes,” he said sardonically, drawing out the word to accentuate the sarcasm. “Pretty, shiny, and the center of attention. Just what I strive for on a daily basis.”

Sylvanas patted him encouragingly on both shoulders and sat up on the desk beside him, crossing her legs and holding on to her leather knee pads. 

“Why don’t you join me at the Retreat tonight? Sundown? Get your mind off of all this while you still can. Let your hair down.”

She leaned forward with a Cheshire grin. “I’ve seen you drink. Do you dance? I haven’t seen you dance  _ once _ during the entire length of your stay.”

Nathanos let out a sound that was half laugh half scoff. “I don't really dance, no. Never had much of a need to. Honestly, my rhythm is likely atrocious.”

He eyed that grin with concern, but left it at that, carefully not answering whether or not he'd join her. Joining her meant joining the other rangers, and he always felt that he ended up making everyone's time there less enjoyable with his presence.

“Mm,” Sylvanas replied in acknowledgment, lips pressed together in far off thought for a moment. She shook her head a little and looked past him into the mirror, quickly fussing with her reflection.   
  
“Sorry, I was trying very hard to imagine you and your apparently atrocious rhythm. You’re breaking my heart, you know.”

Nathanos shrugged with faux remorse. “Rhythm just wasn’t one of the talents I was gifted with, you have my sincere apology.”

She hopped down off the desk and sighed at the map she’d been working on, giving it one tired glance over. She turned to Nathanos in the chair again however and looked down at him with renewed vigor. He tilted his head back a bit as she lightly tapped one perfectly manicured finger just under his beard.    
  
“I will see you at the Retreat tonight,” she now insisted, delicately enunciating each word. “Won’t I? It should be quiet, a lot of our company is camping at a suspected chokepoint.”

He let out a soft snort of amusement, then chuckled with a sigh. “Of course, my lady.”


End file.
